by Jim Eldridge
‘It’s a decent-sized house,’ commented Abigail, who was visiting Feather’s home for the first time.
‘It needs to be,’ said Daniel. ‘He and Vera have got four growing children, as well as Vera’s mother living with them. And Vera’s so soft-hearted she invariably has her children’s friends staying over for a night.’
He knocked at the door and it was Feather himself who opened it. His face lit up at the sight of them.
‘Daniel! Abigail! This is a surprise! What news?’
Daniel smiled. ‘Our biggest news is that Abigail’s off to Egypt.’
‘What?’ said Feather, startled.
‘She’s going to be leading an expedition, so it will be in her name. The Abigail Fenton expedition.’
Feather stared at Abigail, who looked embarrassed. ‘When do you go?’ he asked.
‘Nothing’s been decided yet,’ she said.
‘Arthur Conan Doyle is sponsoring it, and he’s chosen Abigail to be the leader,’ continued Daniel.
‘I still haven’t definitely said I will,’ said Abigail. ‘So far I’ve said yes in principle, but there’s still a lot to think about. I may not go at all.’
‘You should,’ said Daniel. ‘It’s the chance of a lifetime.’
‘If you do, when will you go?’ asked Feather.
‘Next year some time.’
‘How long will you be away?’
‘That depends. Usually the first visit to a dig takes about four months while it’s explored, and if there’s anything to find then you go back for a second time to finish. And that can be anything up to six months.’
‘So you’d be away for a whole year!’
‘Yes, and that’s what’s giving me second thoughts,’ said Abigail. ‘I really don’t want to be separated from Daniel for that long.’
‘Plenty of married couples are apart for much longer,’ pointed out Feather. ‘Army and navy people, for example. Scientists exploring for new plants.’
‘That’s what I told her,’ said Daniel. ‘And I could go out there to visit.’
‘Out where?’ asked a girl’s voice.
They looked and saw they’d been joined by a girl of about sixteen.
‘Egypt,’ said Feather. ‘Miss Fenton is considering going out on an archaeological expedition there …’
‘Leading it,’ corrected Daniel with a smile.
‘You’re an archaeologist?’ asked the girl.
‘I am,’ said Abigail.
‘Sorry, I haven’t introduced you,’ said Feather. ‘This is my niece, Marion Budd. She’s come to stay with us for a while. These are Mr Daniel Wilson and Miss Abigail Fenton. They’re friends of mine. Mr Wilson and I worked together when he was at Scotland Yard.’
‘I remember you,’ Marion said to Daniel. ‘I was only very small, but I met you with Uncle John and Aunt Vera. It was in Hyde Park.’
‘Yes,’ said Daniel. ‘I was on a case there, and your uncle and aunt happened to be out enjoying the sunshine. How incredible you should remember. That must have been about ten years ago. You’d only have been six.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, but the memory stayed with me. I remember thinking you looked like one of the gods in my book about the ancient Greeks, tall and so handsome. And you haven’t changed.’
Feather’s wife, Vera, appeared from inside the house, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
‘I heard voices.’ Her face brightened when she saw who was at the door. ‘Daniel! Abigail! How wonderful. I keep hearing about you from John, and reading your exploits in the newspapers …’
‘Oh please!’ begged Abigail. ‘All that is none of our doing.’
‘And not only do we both find all that stuff in the newspapers embarrassing, it also stops us doing our job properly,’ said Daniel ruefully. ‘It means that certain important people are upset by it, and as a result we’re both barred from Scotland Yard.’
Vera shot a concerned look at Feather, who shook his head. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Daniel and Abigail calling here is permissible, indeed, sanctioned by that certain important person, providing it’s done discreetly and without anyone knowing about it.’
‘In that case, you’d better come in,’ said Vera. ‘You never know who might be passing.’
‘She’s going to Egypt,’ said Marion as they entered the house.
Vera gave Abigail an inquisitive look, prompting Abigail to say, ‘I may be, but that’s not why we’re here.’
‘Somehow I didn’t think it was,’ said Feather. ‘Shall we go into the parlour?’ As Marion pushed open the door of the parlour and walked in, Feather added, ‘Actually, Marion, this is business. So perhaps you’d go with your Aunt Vera.’
‘Oh!’ said Marion, her face screwing up with disappointment.
‘Come on,’ said Vera. ‘You can help me with this stew I’m making.’
‘But …’ said Marion, with a hopeful look towards Daniel.
‘It is business, and as such we need to keep it within ourselves,’ said Daniel.
‘But I’m family!’ protested Marion.
‘Yes, you are, but this is not family business,’ said Feather. ‘It’s business business. Now off you go.’
Marion gave a pout, and reluctantly went off with Vera.
‘How long’s she been here?’ asked Abigail as the three sat down.
‘A week,’ said Feather, lowering his voice and adding with a sigh, ‘It feels longer. Now, what have you got for me to pass on to Armstrong?’
‘Bruin and Patterson, the previous watchmen at Tussauds, have turned up,’ said Daniel.
Feather looked at them, stunned. ‘Dead?’
‘No, very much alive. It appears they’ve been staying on a barge on the Lee Navigation canal by Hackney Marsh. They were hired by a man called Michaels to go and live on board and keep an eye on the cargo, and all at short notice. But now this man Michaels seems to have vanished, so they went back to ask John Tussaud if their old jobs were still open, and it was then they learnt about the murders of Dudgeon and Bagshot.’
‘So they say,’ commented Feather suspiciously.
‘If they already knew, I can’t see them returning to the museum, can you?’
‘No,’ agreed Feather reluctantly. ‘All right, let’s say they didn’t know that murder was in mind, but they surely must have got suspicious about being asked to leave at such short notice.’
‘Money, John. And a really good business opportunity. That’s what they were sold.’
‘So this Michaels character conned them into leaving so he could put Dudgeon and Bagshot in.’
Daniel and Abigail nodded.
‘That’s the way it looks to us,’ said Abigail.
‘But why?’
‘Daniel has a theory,’ said Abigail.
Feather looked enquiringly at Daniel, who outlined his thoughts: ‘Two men, former engineers with the army, who worked as tunnellers digging the Gasworks Tunnel out of King’s Cross station, but for the last three years they’ve been working as general navvies. Which is heavy work. They take a job as nightwatchmen at a museum that’s just two doors away from a bank. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious in view of what you said about the series of bank robberies?’
‘Those robberies were the result of the crooks breaking through from the cellar next door, not two doors away,’ countered Feather. Then he looked thoughtful. ‘However, if the place between the bank and the museum has got a cellar …’
‘It hasn’t,’ said Daniel. ‘I checked. It’s solid earth.’
‘In that case they couldn’t do it,’ said Feather.
‘They’re engineers and one of them was recently a tunneller,’ insisted Daniel.
‘Is there any sign of the wall of the cellar in the museum having been broken in any way? Any signs of tunnelling?’ asked Feather.
‘No,’ admitted Daniel. ‘But that doesn’t mean they weren’t intending to. And so far we’ve only been able to make a surface examination of the cellar
walls.’
Feather shook his head. ‘You’re clutching at straws, Daniel.’
‘That’s what I said,’ put in Abigail.
‘And if that was the case, why would someone want to kill them?’ asked Feather. ‘And in such weird ways?’
‘I don’t know,’ sighed Daniel. ‘But I said before, the way they died suggests whoever did it was sending a message to someone.’
‘What message? And to who?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Daniel again. ‘It could be a warning.’
‘A warning about what?’
‘Say Dudgeon and Bagshot were demanding a bigger share of the money from the man behind the job? This man, Michaels. So he kills them, or has them killed.’
‘But why in this bizarre fashion?’
‘Say this Michaels uses different people each time for the bank robberies.’
‘But the museum isn’t next door to a bank, it’s two doors away, through solid earth.’
‘That’s right, and because Michaels knows that the police will be on to their way of working, breaking in from a cellar next door, he decides to hire some tunnellers who can tunnel their way through from further away. When they start demanding a bigger share he has them killed to send a message to the other crews he’s got working for him that that’s what will happen to them if they get difficult.’
Feather shook his head. ‘I can see where you’re coming from, but there’s no evidence to back any of this up. If there was any evidence of tunnelling in the museum, I’d take this to Armstrong. But there isn’t. You said so yourself. The best thing we can do is find this bloke, Michaels. He’s the only one who knows what the game’s about now Dudgeon and Bagshot are dead.
‘What I’ll do is pass on to Armstrong about Bruin and Patterson turning up, and the fact they were hired by this character Michaels to leave the museum and go and live on the barge. With Jarrett looking for Michaels, he might even find him. If he does, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thanks, John. Oh, and there’s one other thing. A thirteen-year-old apprentice from Morton’s of London Wax Museum has disappeared. His name’s Thomas Tandry. I think there could be a connection with the body of Walter Bagshot mysteriously turning up at Tussauds encased in wax.’
Feather stared at him, bewildered. ‘A thirteen-year-old boy? What on earth makes you think he could be involved?’
‘The fact that he’s vanished.’
‘Thirteen-year-old boys vanish all the time. And thirteen-year-old girls. You know that, Daniel.’
‘Yes, but it’s the wax connection that gets to me.’
Feather shook his head. ‘Just like the tunnellers, I think in this case you’re letting your imagination run away with you.’
‘I’d still like to find him.’
‘I’d like to find everyone who gets reported missing, but it’s all about resources. You know that. At the moment our priority is these bank robberies, and for Jarrett it’s the murders at Tussauds.’ He gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’ll mention about this missing boy to Inspector Jarrett and maybe he’ll look into it.’
‘He won’t,’ said Daniel.
‘All I can do is tell him about it,’ said Feather. ‘What’s the boy’s name again?’
‘Thomas Tandry. Thirteen years old. An apprentice wax modeller at Morton’s of London Wax Museum.’ He gave Feather the boy’s address at the lodging house. ‘He disappeared from there the same day he vanished from Morton’s.’
‘I’ll pass that on,’ said Feather, folding the piece of paper and putting it in his pocket.
‘Thanks, John,’ said Daniel. ‘Oh, and there’s one more thing.’
‘More?’ echoed Feather, in mock indignation.
‘When Bruin and Patterson told me about Michaels, the name Gerald Carr was mentioned,’ said Daniel.
‘In what way?’ Feather frowned, suddenly alert.
‘It seems that Bruin and Patterson owed Carr money. Michaels said he’d pay Carr what they owed if they left Tussauds for his job at short notice. So they did.’
‘Very wise,’ said Feather. He frowned. ‘But it doesn’t sound like Carr to let them off so easily. Once he’s got his hooks into someone he squeezes them. A nasty piece of work.’
‘I know, and the same thought struck me. Could Carr be in it with this Michaels?’
‘It’s possible, but why would Michaels disappear?’
‘Maybe Carr had a hand in that,’ suggested Daniel. ‘Say he found out that Michaels was double-crossing him in some way.’
‘If he did, he’d be signing his death sentence,’ said Feather. He lapsed into thought, then said, ‘It would be wonderful if Carr was involved in some way. We’ve been after him for years and never managed to put him away.’
‘Maybe. If there is something, Inspector Jarrett will uncover it and collar Carr,’ said Daniel with a smile.
Feather laughed. ‘And pigs might fly! Still, it’s worth mentioning Carr’s name just to have someone poking around in his business.’
‘I’m thinking of doing that myself,’ said Daniel. ‘Just in case he’s the power behind Michaels in whatever their game is.’
‘Be careful, Daniel,’ warned Feather. ‘You’re not in the police now, you don’t have the backing of a uniformed squad. Gerald Carr is ruthless and if he feels you’re a threat to him, he’ll have no compunction about killing you.’
As Daniel and Abigail walked away from Feather’s house, Abigail, concerned, asked, ‘Is this man Carr really that dangerous?’
‘Very,’ said Daniel.
‘Then I think you ought to be very careful in the way you approach him, from what John just said about him killing you.’
‘Don’t worry, I know Gerald Carr of old. I’ll certainly be careful.’
‘I’d also be careful of young Marion,’ commented Abigail. ‘That girl has her eyes on you.’
‘Nonsense! She’s just a child.’
‘I saw the way she looked at you. And she’s a child with a very developing woman’s body,’ said Abigail.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Septimus Morris, manager of the Belgravia branch of Billings Bank, checked the time by his watch as he neared the doors of his bank – 8.30 a.m. – and nodded with satisfaction as he saw the three members of his counter staff, Derek Wilson, Arthur Crum and Margaret Bannister, standing waiting. Good staff. Punctual. Courteous to the customers, well-turned out, a credit to the bank, and to himself.
‘Good morning,’ he greeted them.
‘Good morning, Mr Morris,’ they chorused in return.
He took out his keys and used the two largest to open the security locks in the thick, strong front door, then walked in, his staff following. Wilson, Crum and Margaret immediately went to their stations behind the counter. Morris, for his part, first went into his office to hang up his overcoat before heading for the discreet door at the back of the bank that led down to the vault. He pressed the switch, and smiled proudly at the fact that his branch was one of the first to have the new form of lighting – electricity – as opposed to the old-fashioned gas mantles. He walked down the stone steps to the basement room and approached the wall of iron bars that led to the safes and cupboards with private materials stored on behalf of the bank’s important clients.
He stopped in his tracks as shock washed over him. Through the bars he could see that the cupboards had been forced open; the drawers and compartments inside just splintered wood. The shelves where the metal boxes containing the precious bank notes had been stacked were now empty. Morris stumbled to the iron bars and could feel himself choking with rising panic. The brick wall at the back of the inner vault had been partly demolished, piles of broken bricks lying around, and a gaping hole revealed the dark cellar beneath the premises next door.
Daniel and Abigail crossed the footbridge over the canal and walked along the towpath, checking the names of the barges moored along it.
‘I’m puzzled,’ said Abigail. ‘Are there two River Lees here? I ask because I’ve
seen a sign for the one we’ve just crossed and one for another River Lea, but spelt differently. L-E-A.’
‘Yes, that’s always caused confusion to people who don’t know the area,’ said Daniel. ‘It’s actually the same river. Its source is in Luton, which is how that town got its name. It was originally called Lea Town, and the river that began there was the River Lea. But where it had to be made navigable for boats, sections were turned into canals, and in those sections it was called the River Lee. This section, for example, is called Lee Navigation because it was built as a canal off the original river to flow down the west side of Hackney Marsh to the Thames. The original River Lea continued on its original course and flows down the east side of the marsh.’
‘I still think it’s very confusing,’ said Abigail.
‘The people who work on the river understand it,’ said Daniel. ‘Ah,’ he said as he spotted the Mary-Jane. ‘We’re here.’ Loudly, he shouted, ‘Ahoy, Mary-Jane!’
‘Ahoy?’ said Abigail, with a quizzical look at him.
A stocky bearded man appeared from the door of the barge’s cabin and regarded them warily.
‘Good morning,’ said Daniel. ‘My name is Daniel Wilson and this is my partner, Miss Abigail Fenton. We’re private enquiry agents who’ve been hired by Madame Tussauds waxwork museum to look into some recent events there.’
‘What events?’ asked the man suspiciously.
‘Two murders, and we believe they may be connected to the man who recently rented your barge and called himself either Michaels or Stafford.’
The man regarded them with even greater suspicion and shook his head. ‘I don’t know nothing about any murders and I ain’t getting involved. So you can sling your hook.’
Daniel nodded. ‘I understand. In that case we’ll tell Scotland Yard that you have no wish to talk to us, and they’ll take over, which will mean you being taken in for questioning and your barge impounded.’
The man stared at him. ‘Scotland Yard?’
‘For some years I was a detective at Scotland Yard, and we’re working with them on this case. Inspector Jarrett and Superintendent Armstrong. They’ll confirm who we are when they come to take you in for questioning and remove your barge for examination.’ He paused. ‘Or we can talk now, informally, and leave it at that.’